I'll Be Yours
by X-valmont-X
Summary: It's Kyo's Birthday, and Shigure hasn't forgotten.


**I do not own Fruits Basket, and i make no money from this...sadly. **

**"I'll Be Yours"**

**I'll be your water bathing you clean**  
><strong>The liquid piece<strong>  
><strong>I'll be your ether you'll breathe me in<strong>  
><strong>You won't release<strong>  
><strong>Well I've seen you suffer, I've seen you cry the whole night through<strong>  
><strong>So I'll be your water bathing you clean<strong>  
><strong>Liquid blue<strong>

Kyo is precious. Bringing him here didn't make me the most popular person in our family, but I gave up caring about things like that a long time ago. I sit on our porch, looking out over the dense forestry that we call our garden and I smile. Our lives, although filled with complexities, have improved. This improvement came with the arrival of Tohru, of course. She has acted as the relief to an itchy sting, she has calmed the two boys under my roof down, although not completely. She has opened their worlds to friendship, to life outside the family, and although I suspect Akito has ulterior motives in letting her stay, I can't help but he happy at the thought of her gracing these walls with her presence.

Water runs from a drainage pipe around the side of the house, in the silence of the evening its bubbling is clearly audible. Kyo is the only one in the house, which means it's him in the shower. The thought simply breezes through my mind, it doesn't stay. I can't allow it to. The trouble with breeze is that sometimes it can be persistent, like when you're trying to read and the pages are caught in a fly-away wind. The image of Kyo in the shower, so vulnerable and unexpecting, pervades my thoughts constantly. I shudder, desire rippling through my bones, sighing deeply I take gulp of sake.

We have a bigger family than most, an old and noble family; as with all such families there are masses or secrets, Closets so crammed full of skeletons that they need to be barricaded shut. Yet with all this family, with all these united secrets that we share with some and hide from others, there is no sense of unity. Both Kyo and Yuki have said to me on separate occasions that they feel like they have no family, that they are alone in a world in which they don't belong. With the arrival of Tohru, I think this feeling had subsided in them both, that slowly a family is being built around them, albeit a dysfunctional one.

I have always had a soft spot for Kyo, I sympathise with his tortured soul, the way some of his wounds refuse to heal. The trouble is, I want to heal those wounds, I want him to be okay. I look upon his with the eyes of a father, but I will always know that I am not. There isn't the connection that paternal love gives you, I am merely a surrogate. Sometimes, I look upon his with the eyes of a brother, a confidante, someone to argue with without meaning anything you say, at other times, I am merely the outsider, looking in on a deeply troubled boy who is missing many things, not just family.

When I look into his carnelian eyes, I see only a void, a deep empty space that nothing can fill. That doesn't stop me from trying.

I'm drawn back from my thoughts by the water again. I look at the lowering sun in the sky; he's been in there a long time. I debate with myself as I shuffle along the hall way. Should I knock the door? Should I just walk in? Or should I just leave it all together?

I realise I'm talking to myself as I reach the bathroom; my sanity seems to be slipping away from me worryingly easily. I reach for the door handle, stop, and then move to knock, I then open my mouth to shout, my brain isn't ready to come to a decision, and so I end up doing all three at once.

"Kyo! Are you-" my eyes widen, through the steam I can make out his shape. He sits under the running shower, his arms wrapped tight around himself, his head on his knees. His nakedness unsettles me, a gush of emotion that I'm not comfortable with invades me, and I do my best to ignore it.

He slowly looks up at me, bewildered at my intrusion, but he does not react.

"Are...you ok?" I raise an eyebrow in attempt to keep my character, but I'm too easy to see through.

He shrugs, in Kyo's language this translates as: "no, but I'm not telling you why".

I perch on the edge of the bath, close enough to get splashed with water from the shower, almost close enough to feel the steam rising off his skin.

I place my hand on his, reaching into the shower, the hot water almost scalding me, flecks of dark grey are seemingly spattered onto my sleeve. I clench my hand tightly around his, absorbing his fresh skin pulled tightly around strong bones. He looks up at me as if he's going to growl, but he does nothing, just stares.

"Happy birthday Kyo"

His eyes widen and for the first time I can make out that he's been crying.

"What? Did you think I forgot?" I ask, a hint of teasing in my voice.

He shrugs in reply, feigning disinterest.

"I have a present for you downstairs, if you ever get out of the shower" I smile at him, and am slightly upset when I don't get one in return.

His behaviour might seem strange to people who don't understand the relationship I have with him. To other people, Kyo is permanently aloof, angry, and unsociable. But I know him; I have sat with him on countless occasions and just let him cry, I've heard him talk about things that even the ever trusted Tohru would never hear. This is what connects us.

He squeezes my hand lightly, and I draw my attention from the ground, I am unaware I was so focused upon the floorboards. I look over at him and see in his eyes an expression I have seen many times before, one that can only lead to trouble for me, and possibly for Kyo, but one I will never have the willpower to resist.

I breathe in deeply, I will not resist this time either. I lean into him bringing my head under the shower, the water runs down my face, dampening my hair, taking his jaw in my hand I tilt his head up to me, bringing his lips to mine, he tastes of water, and a faint hint of shampoo, but under this, when I kiss him deeper, I can taste him, just him. He wraps a wet arm around me, gripping at my shoulder with tense fingers. He pulls on me, he wants me in the bath with him, I clamber over the side, keeling in the pooling water, the moisture is sucked up by the cloth of my yukata. I wrap my arms tightly around his bare torso, my limbs are becoming heavy with the water being splashed down upon my clothes, this weight, although almost painful, reminds me of my human condition, of how I am truly alive, and it makes me feel comfortable, relieved.

Our kisses become deeper, more passionate, and as he breathes into my mouth I suddenly realise that this cannot go on forever, our interludes, as infrequent and unexpected as they are, will one day have to come to an end. Anyone who finds happiness in this family has it painfully torn away from them in the cruellest of ways. If I'm honest, I'm not even sure this is happiness.

His hands are fisted in the cloth of my shoulders, their grip making his knuckles white, he starts to pull, almost tearing at me, he has a way of becoming the animal he's trying to escape from when we are in these situations. He also has the capacity to forget how clothes work, I take his wrists, he reluctantly let's go of me and I guide his hands down to the tie that keeps my skin from his. His fingers begin to find their dexterity again, and he impatiently works at the carefully tied knot. I feel the sash come loose, I can breathe easily again, although I wasn't aware that I was struggling before. His hands are immediately inside the yukata, moist hands exploring flesh that they already know too well. It feels like he's burning me, like his hands are liquid molten; suddenly everything around me is cold, apart from those fingers, those young and over-eager fingers. I watch his face, shades of red dance upon his cheeks, his eyelids, heavy with the water falling upon them, are almost closed, but I know that he is watching. His hands travel nervously to my shoulders, slipping under the fabric to guide it from my body, and as it slips from my arms it pools in the water around us. He timidly eyes me up and down, taking in the expanse of my body. I have never been shy about my body, or about my looks, and being under such scrutiny from anyone else would make me laugh, would make me even more proud of myself, but with this deep and penetrating stare coming from Kyo, I feel almost scared, I feel this urge to make myself perfect for him, as not to let him down, I feel like I am the only person in the world prepared to be like this for him, although of course I am wrong, and so I feel an overwhelming responsibility to him. And if I let him down I feel, I _know_, that I am not entitled to count myself among the people who he sees as family.

For a while we just sit and look at each other, inspecting the things that we refuse to see in each other on a day to day basis. I look deep into his face; I see the pain that resides there, just beneath the surface. It lurks under his skin, only rearing its ugly head when Kyo is at his weakest, when he has the moments that one day might kill him. But underneath that pain, that ugly, clawing, monster, there is beauty. It is this that I see in Kyo more than anyone else. People can catch a brief glimpse of it, if they look at him on the rare occasion that he smiles, in those few fleeting seconds when he forgets who he is, and finds contentment.

It is in these moments between us that I dig beneath the surface and bring the real Kyo to me, the Kyo that nobody else sees.

His hands reach out to me with a confidence that I have never seen before, I have been watching him for too long and he is becoming impatient, he grasps my sides and brings me in close to him, our bodies meet in a way that they shouldn't, not between a man and a boy, not between cousins.

I kiss him again, watery lips with a faint taste of salt from his tears, and underneath is him, the taste of the boy I have loved for longer than I should admit to. My hands roam his back, rippling over muscles that Kyo keeps hidden under clothes that drown him.

He sighs deeply into my mouth, his breath taking mine away. His fingers are trailing lightly along my sides. A few years ago this would have tickled me, but now it makes me shiver deep down inside. I'm breathing heavier and heavier, a ball of heat curls in my stomach; I recognise it as need, desperation. His tongue snakes around mine, tasting me, feeling me. We will be connected forever, and this is his way of telling me so. I have only known passion like this once, a long time ago, when I was the same age as the boy that I hold in my arms now.

I am drawn from my thoughts by a light biting upon my bottom lip, he teases me with the light mixture of pleasure and pain and for a moment I forget to breathe. My fingers grip tightly in his wet hair as it settles around his blushing face. He breaks the kiss and we are once again able to breathe without constraint. Something that doesn't feel right in this situation. I lean down, finding the hot dampness of his neck, a place that consists of pure, unblemished flesh. I kiss him lightly enough to tickle him, and he squirms, trying to pull me in closer to him and push me away at the same time. His gasps finally become audible, something that delights me more that words can explain. Small moans escape his throat involuntarily, they vibrate through his skin to my lips and make my spine tingle. I open my mouth, my tongue escaping to lathe his throat in warmth beyond the water that falls upon us, I explore him thoroughly, making sure I know every inch of him before I stop, the gentle peak of his Adam's apple, the sharp collarbone, the Michelangelo jaw. Through all this he is relaxing, melting into the bath, becoming pliable and accepting of my manipulations. His hands clamp onto me, one behind my head, holding my mouth to him, the other clawing it's way along my back, my skin prickles, morphing into goose-flesh and I growl lightly into his throat.

My hand reaches around to his front and I feel him, the newly formed muscles, the frame that still has inches to grow. His stomach is hard and tenses when my fingers glide over it, this flesh, so new and unexplored, is my territory only. I reach between his open legs, and although I am sure it is only imagination, I swear I can hear his heart rattling in the cage of his chest. I wrap my hand around him, the part of him that nobody sees. All of the Sohma males are larger than average, he is no exception. He is harder than he has been before, the skin softer with the constant moisture of the shower, and as I slowly begin to stroke him his body twinges, his hips thrusting themselves into my hand. He rests his head upon my shoulder, his quick and shallow breaths burning across my neck almost making me shiver. He throws his head back, leaning it against the tiled wall behind him, his face up towards the ceiling, water raining down upon him. his eyes have the glaze of someone revelling in an ecstasy that has long been forgotten, a peace that is seldom found in a life like his.

I can look down now, watch what I am doing to him, the slow movements made by an arm that is far older than the hardness it is stroking. It is wrong, but it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The tip, glistening with moisture, has formed a pearl on top, a signifier of his desperation, it is turning a dark purple colour, informing me that as much as I would like it to go on forever this encounter won't last for long. His chest rises and falls in deep, expressive movements that betrays his usual aloof and unfeeling countenance. I lean forward, needing to be nearer to him, his contact like oxygen, if I starve myself of it, I will die. He wraps his arms tightly around me, our tangled bodies make it hard for me to continue pleasuring him, but I try to anyway, any amount of discomfort is worth pleasing him. I can feel a slither of water rolling down my back, the curse, being what it is, makes me want to shake the droplets from my braced spine, but I resist; those kinds of movements would not be appropriate.

I watch his eyes, as they dart nervously from the roof to me, taking in bits of my flesh, registering them and remembering them, if only he paid so much attention to his homework. He leant forwards and grasped my jaw in his hands, and pulling my head to the side like the vampires you see in old in films, he clamps down upon my neck. I wince as the pain surges through me, showering me in endorphins from the inside out. I fall limp against him.

He always reaches a stage during our interludes, where he gives up being coy it's almost as if he decides it simply doesn't suit him anymore, truly though, it's desperation. He hits a point where desire crashes through any barriers that are holding back the full force of his want. I like this stage.

Relenting slightly, he lets my skin fall from between his teeth, I can feel it bruising, blood flushing underneath, a slight burn. He runs his tongue over it, eliciting a moan from me that I wasn't aware of holding in, my arms wrap tightly around him, pulling his wet flesh against mine, melding us into one thriving organism. He teases me, kissing, sometimes biting, sometimes licking, sometimes disappearing altogether. His manipulations, masterful and unabashedly debauchered all have the same affect upon me. I am harder than I have ever been before. I wrap my arms tightly around him, digging my fingers into his shoulder blades. Desperation and impatience will be the death of me, but at times like this, I think even a saint would find it difficult to resist at all, let alone for any amount of time.

I untangle myself from him, immediately missing the contact. My skin feels cold and my body naked, a sensation that wasn't with me a few seconds ago. Getting to my knees I adjust myself, he knows what I am going to do, and unlike last time he doesn't look worried, his cheeks only flush slightly, Maybe from embarrassment, maybe with desire.

I wrap my hand around him again, levering myself on my free arm, and take him into my mouth. I lathe my tongue around his tip, tasting him as much as I can. To me there is nothing sweeter. He immediately hangs his head back, his eyes closed, and his mouth slightly open, His breaths cascading from his mouth through the running water, I continue to look up at him, worshiping him like the god he is. The child god, resplendent forever in his beauty, in his stature, and in his torment.

I take him to the back of my throat, I am full, but if I could I would take more, my actions are rewarded with a gentle hand on the back of my head, slight fingers grasping my hair, enticing me to carry on. I can hear his breathing, the haggard, desperate moans that are increasing in frequency, becoming louder and more vocal with every second. I feel him shift and so look up at him, his eyes are on me, his cheeks are stained deep vermillion, and he bites his lip. I know this signal, and react quickly. With one last flick of my tongue I let him drop from my mouth. I'm gasping as much as he is, the air I'm breathing is hot and steamy, and my lungs are struggling to keep up. He clutches my jaw again, bringing me in for one last, lingering kiss. Our hands explore each other as we wrap ourselves into each other as tightly as possible. My nails drag along his spine, reaching down further and further, he shakes with the ripples that flood through him.

Gentleness is abandoned and replaced with an unprecedented need. His movements become urgent, there is only one way this will end, and he is happy for it. His hand blindly searches for a bottle of hair conditioner, he opens the cap loudly with his thumb. I reach round and allow him to empty some of it onto my fingers. We look at each other briefly; we are so far away from who we are in our daily lives that it almost seems impossible. I massage the cold liquid with my thumb to warm it, and I reach around his back as he shifts onto my folded legs; bringing us so close that parts of us touch that make us groan loudly in unison. I search confidently for the most secret part of him and find it easily. Slowly I inch my index finger inside him, his breath holds in his throat, and I whisper words to him to comfort him. his chin rests on my shoulder, and I support him with my free hand. I pull out from him slowly, feeling him twinge around me, allowing him to adjust, I push back in with two fingers, as slowly as my dwindling tolerance will permit me.

He breathily curses into my neck as he clutches tightly to me, almost choking the air from me. he finally relaxes, and his breaths begin to flow from him like he's crying, for a moment I am worried. My doubts are quashed however, when he starts bringing his hips down to meet my hand, he wants more. I slide a third finger inside, he easily accommodates me. the water is almost forgotten as it drenches us, washing the sweat pouring from us clean away. He pulls away, looking deep into me, and nods.

Lifting him gently, I guide him to my hardness. He begins to lower himself, I almost collapse as I breach the tight rosebud that he has kept only for me. the heat is searing, and it ignites an inferno in me that spreads immediately throughout my entire being. As I fill him, his body convulses uncontrollably, his breaths stop coming, and he hangs almost lifelessly over my shoulders. When he rests, he once again begins to breathe. He leans back and looks deep into me, I see within him all the things he keeps secret from the world, lust, pain, hate, and somewhere, love. I kiss him gently, letting him know that I can read him, and that I am not horrified by what I see.

He lifts himself again, slowly, teasingly; when he is ready, he slams himself back down again. We both cry out, the sensation, whilst expected, was still a surprise. He sets himself into a rhythm, a punishing pace that transports us to other planes of existence. I clamp onto his hips, needing to stake a claim on him, he is mine. Forever.

He frees his hand from my shoulder, and trails it down his chest in the slight gap between us. I am too entranced by his face to follow it. I can feel though, that he is stroking himself in the same animalistic way that he is thrusting over me. a shiver rises from his hips and spreads throughout his whole body, a flash of red follows. And with the loudest cry I have ever heard from his lips, a burning liquid sprays over my chest. His muscles tighten even further, and from inside him, I feel like I might die.

I can feel a spiral twisting in my stomach, twinging and spreading like it did through his, and suddenly the whole world is gone, my body tenses and releases, and I fill him. I do not notice until now, but I have been biting my lip, I can feel the blood rush to it when I release it, and as my breathing regulates. He clings to me, feeling, as I do, that we should never be separated.

Through the echoes of orgasm I hear him murmur. I cannot make out the sound. But it sounds suspiciously like

'I love you'.

**I'll be your father, I'll be your mother,**  
><strong>I'll be your lover, I'll be yours<strong>

**I'll be your liquor bathing your soul**  
><strong>Juice that's pure<strong>  
><strong>And I'll be your anchor you'll never leave<strong>  
><strong>Shores that cure<strong>  
><strong>Well I've seen you suffer, I've seen you cry for days and days<strong>  
><strong>So I'll be your liquor demons will drown<strong>  
><strong>And float away<strong>

**I'll be your father, I'll be your mother,**  
><strong>I'll be your lover, I'll be yours<strong>  
><strong>Yours...<strong>


End file.
